


last summer's day

by happycakeycake



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Flirting, Goodbyes, Implied Sexual Content, Lounge Singer AU, M/M, Summer Vacation, Teasing, he's head over heels for singer boy, implied moments of chanyeol with others, it's all casual until it's not, only brief flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-05-12 18:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19235101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happycakeycake/pseuds/happycakeycake
Summary: and so summer begins with a sigh caught like song in the wind — and so it ends with one last kiss, half-way like an unspoken promise.or, alternatively, Chanyeol learns that to love and to say goodbye are neither exclusive from the other.-Prompt: beach/vacation au kinda? where fuckboy chanyeol meets lounge singer jongdae on vacation





	last summer's day

**Author's Note:**

> a playlist that traces the relationship of two people over slow summer days: [*](https://happycakewonders.tumblr.com/post/185624796427/via) . if it's not too much of a bother, please let it play through from beginning to end as you read :). I've also hyperlinked songs in-fic that directly correlate with scenes for instant access.  
> Thank you for reading :)  
> Also shout-out to electrifired mod azula + my prompter and their prompt. it instantly caught my eye with how simple and cute it was and I admit in retrospect I may have strayed into something more wistful than intended but I hope u can still enjoy some good ol’ chenyeol flirting over beaches and hot summer days.

 “[Tell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3UwzwQ1AEU) me when, will you be mine _…”_

“ _Dime_ , _cuando, cuando, cuando,_ ” Chanyeol croons, breath whispering over Kyungsoo’s ear.

Kyungsoo ignores him, adjusting his hold on the guitar as the song washes into the scratch of the mic and then, melts into the hush of the sea. The low register of it seems to vibrate in time with the high-pitched strumming, a rough and tender embrace of simple chords, perfect on a warm summer’s day.

Chanyeol groans at the perfect harmony of it all, humming within his ears.

“Every moment is a day, _cada dia parece una vida sin ti_ -” Kyungsoo shoots him a dirty look, even as he continues plucking at the strings. Chanyeol croons harder, pursing his lips around each trembling syllable.

“C’mon Soo, how good is my Spanish?” He raises a cocky brow, stealing the words into his mouth like a piece of hard candy. They feel strange, but full in new inviting ways, asking him to try them out even more.

Kyungsoo makes an irritated little click with his tongue. “You’re shit at rolling your r’s.”

They barely know each other — but here they are, Chanyeol draped around Kyungsoo’s shoulders, their voices intertwining around the mic like a pair of beautiful strangers on a night where the air is more heat and smoke than oxygen.

And here they are, knowing that Chanyeol will leave with a cocky, sweet peck on his cheek and Kyungsoo, disgruntled, will remain on that cruise through the Atlantic still strumming to the tune caught in his ear.

When Chanyeol leaves, he’ll step off the landing with that sway in his gait, shake his head, and say goodbye with that handsome, pitiful smile of his. Pitiful not for himself, but for the other, the lover, friend, and stranger with his song and voice lingering behind, with an empty promise of nothing after, of nothing more ever again. There are these goodbyes that are no more gentle than the face of a stranger in the long morning after.

Chanyeol hums the lilting tune for himself and lifts his face to the sun, ready for the start of a hot summer’s day.  

The guitar strings tremble, holding their final note to its climax, but even then there are these goodbyes that Kyungsoo’s songs can’t quite capture.

☼

Chanyeol takes to the noon hour like a new seal, slipping on his pelt and emerging as gold from beneath the waves. 

Instead of fur, he adorns his sleek skin with the haphazard tuck of a hawaiian shirt, baby sky-blue with white blossoms that bloom into one another. He leaves it open to flap around his waist, for the white flowers to grow between the bare ridges of his stomach.

Dancing across the boardwalk, fluttering unsteadily on the wind, he pays no attention to the gazes stuck on him. In fact, he raises his hands wide open to the sun and pulls into a stretch that makes his back arch in wonderful, lazy ways.

“Ah~”

The appraising hum makes him turn, half-caught in languid repose. There’s a set of slim eyes currently running down his stomach, and a pursed smile stretched across thin lips. Another young man sits above the railing on the dock, dangling his worn leather loafers above the water.

Those eyes meet his with a playful flick, a cat pawing at a feather. “You don’t look like someone who knows his way around here.”

Chanyeol takes one look at his face and smirks. “And you do?”

“Byun Baekhyun.” The stranger supplies without pause, slipping off of the railing with a careful hop and step. “And _I_ am many, many things.” He strolls right up to Chanyeol with that odd jump in his every step and holds his hand out.

Despite the height difference (or maybe because of it even more so), Chanyeol takes his hand and stares down at him with a sense of soda fizzing in his stomach. Byun Baekhyun looks like someone who would make him laugh with a perk of his pink lips alone. “Park Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun tilts his head this way, then that. He taps his finger against his cheek, nail delicate, trimmed neatly at the tip, as he stares up at the sun. Then he smiles with bright, bombastic declaration. “Park Chanyeol — now that’s the name of someone who belongs at Club Oasis.”

 _Oasis, huh,_ Chanyeol runs the word over in his mind. He imagines Baekhyun sprawled across a lounge, his pale and pretty hands shaped nicely around the curves of an iridescent martini glass. It’s enough to spark his curiosity in this strange place, bathed blue under the eye of an ever-watchful sun.

“Well then lead the way - to an oasis, you say?”

Baekhyun picks up his bags with a surprising amount of pep, and skips ahead across the boardwalk. At the very end, where the ocean seems to melt into the skyline, he turns and grins. “I guarantee you, it’s paradise _._ ”

The sun flares like golden bells ringing out behind dark strands of hair, and Chanyeol decides he likes the sound of that promise.

☼

The sounds of a skeleton song bounce around the empty lounge, trickles of piano paired with the experimental pluck of strings — and beneath it all, a lingering voice that beckons like a lazy siren’s call.

There are no words, but with each syllable, the note becomes a drop of water, slow dripping jewels that are remade from the glittering salt of the sea. Closing his eyes, Chanyeol wants to let it wash over him in a calm, like a sailor finally come home to the storm.

“Jongdae~!” Baekhyun calls, and the constant crash of the storm slows and finds itself lost to a lull of waves. Without another glance at him, the smaller man hikes over the clutter of couches and disappears beneath the shadow of a palm frond.

Chanyeol, curious, follows with one easy step.

He has to hold the broad leaf of the decoration frond above his head, bending his neck at an awkward angle, but beneath it, with the shape of its shadow bordering on the edge of sunlight through the window, a man dozes with fluttering lashes and gold dancing on the corners of his lips.

Baekhyun, curled at his side, glances up at Chanyeol with a finger placed across his smile. “Park Chanyeol, meet Kim Jongdae.”

Jongdae rouses with a hum, an ascension of notes that make the birds outside sing for joy, and meets Chanyeol’s stare with a disgruntled yawn. A flash of a pink tongue, rustled brown hair, a smile that settles into a perpetual smirk — calling him a cat would be so on the nose, even Chanyeol feels a bit sheepish in making the comparison.

“Well-” Jondae pauses to get to his feet, shaking himself off. He takes another moment to truly look at Chanyeol with an odd tilt of his head, “I don’t usually see my audience this up-close and personal, but it’s a pleasure to meet you Park Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol stands, realizing he towers above Jongdae by more than a head. The palm frond has fallen to scratch over his brow, but with the way it casts his shadow even longer over Jongdae’s upturned face, he finds he doesn’t mind it at all.

“The pleasure is all mine, sleeping beauty.”  

He steals a kiss from the back of Jongdae’s hand, and from the corner of his eye, he can see Baekhyun snicker into the cushions.

Jongdae’s curled smile stretches across his face, a cat full from his cup of cream, and he returns the favor with a tip of his toes, barely brushing his lips across Chanyeol’s cheek. “I’ll see you around then Prince Charming.” He winks, two sly half-moons holding nothing but the best of intentions.

Chanyeol lets him shimmy through the palm fronds, slipping under the stage with a light tap of his shoes, and considers sweeping him off of his feet the next time they meet.  

☾

“Fancy seeing you here again, stranger.”

Chanyeol finds himself at the mercy of a proffered drink. Never one to say no to a free drink or casual flirtations, he raises a toast to Baekhyun’s perpetual leer, this time complete with fluttering lashes casting velvet shadows in the newly dimmed light of the club.

Baekhyun offers his own fruity concoction in wordless serenade, and they both drink to the voice crooning on-stage, to the menial hum of the bar, where drinks and conversation and strangers alike are meant to be made and enjoyed for one night only.

“So,” Chanyeol slips the glass back across the counter, tracing the circle of grimy dew, “what is it that you really do around here?”

Baekhyun only props himself up by both elbows and smiles at Chanyeol as if he was asking him to recount a particularly distant but wonderful dream.

“My job tonight,” he hums, wondering at some unseen form of magic in the sultry snap and go of the guitar, “is to introduce you to our particular side of paradise.”

The echo of a single key rings out. Baekhyun winks and slips into the violet light as easy as the trail of ascending notes. “And that’s my cue!”

Ready. The spotlight flashes and softens. Set. Baekhyun’s shoes tap a silvery one-two beat across the stage. Time is frozen gold for a simple hour by the pattern of a playful spell.

“ _[Hey mama](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AOzVyVv1HtQ)! _Shall we dance all night long?” Slender ankles weave between his own, silk and starlight in a pattern of refracted light and joyous shadow.

The tell-tale curl of a smile finds Chanyeol from in front of the mic stand — and with a splash of whiskey emboldened by the scratch of a dirty record  — 1, 2, 3 and _go!_

Chanyeol sits back and lets the night spin out before him on the whirling suit jackets of three performers, more light and flare and song than men. A mirage perhaps, but he finds the perpetual hint of a kitten’s smirk, and so he stays with a glass tipped between two fingers, never fully emptied but always propped and ready against the edge of his lips.

☼

In terms of mornings, Chanyeol is an unwilling early-bird. He rises an hour after the sun, disgruntled as the dusty heat begins to mingle with the leftover impression of hotel soap and a hazy late night in his mouth.

He rubs his jaw and yawns. Distinctly, it seems to taste of whiskey and perfume, the kind of sharp rose with a hint of chemical sting that he only finds attractive when he’s more than drunk enough to consider his sense of smell compromised.

The bed is empty beside him, but he doesn’t stay to ponder on it. It usually is, and Chanyeol has already moved on with the new day.

…

“Had a good night, didn’t you?”

Chanyeol thoughtfully chases a line of missed stubble under his chin and considers the sly stare before him. Jongdae wears a crown of artfully tousled brown hair, and surely for different reasons than Chanyeol’s own. Despite the leftover traces of a long night, his slim eyes soften in the moment dawn becomes day.

Chanyeol is very tempted - _if only it had been you instead_ \- but he remembers the cats lounging in his neighborhood block, one moment digging the soft spot beneath their chins into his fingers and the next, slipping away with only a trace of golden furs.

So instead, Chanyeol takes care and slides against the balcony at Jongdae’s side, close enough to see the sunlight in his eyes, where leaning over would just be a bit too bold.

“It certainly was with your performance onstage.” There are no hidden intentions, no false words, only simple attraction as he glances down at Jondae’s sharp hips with cocked brows. “Didn’t know you could move that way.”

Jongdae’s smile immediately turns into a scowl. “I swear, if Baekhyun or Minseok hyung put you up to this — all of you can go shove it.”

Chanyeol’s perfect facade twitches in place; flirtation has never gone so awry so quickly. “I don’t know about those two, but I mean what I said.” Jongdae swaying before the mic stand with his suit pressed around his waist and his eyes closed to a song only he could hear had kept Chanyeol at the bar, drink in hand, all night long. “You were a vision in gold.”

Jongdae glowers, but from his height, Chanyeol is only endeared. “If you’re teasing…” He tosses his chin, ignoring Chanyeol in favor of enjoying the whispers from a hot sea breeze, “ _you_ won’t be seeing me onstage anytime soon.”

“Of course, your highness.” Tried and true, Chanyeol goes for a kiss on the back of the hand again, stars twinkling in his eyes.

This time, Jongdae slips away with a wink - cocky and playful and definitely teasing, _I’m not that easy (but maybe you are)_. Chanyeol’s hand closes around the touch of fingertips, but he knows how to play along in the chase. After all, there’s no rush here, and between him and Jongdae it’s the simple push and pull, as lax as the waves on a sunny day. He pouts, lowering himself with a sullen bow. “Will I be seeing you again then?”

Jongdae’s reply is simply a laugh strung high on golden bells, here in the moment and the next already lost to the lulling crash of the sea.

“We’ll have to see, prince charming.”

☾

Tonight, a jaunty beat warms the air. Low wood and bass combined with a chorus of women in slinky black dresses that get the audience on their feet with a single beckon. Even the trio on stage grip their mic stands, holding it between their bowed legs as they sway from side to side.

Jongdae meets his eyes with every beat, making sure to shake his hips in time to the song. The party has already started, and Chanyeol is happily, fashionably late. It’s enough for him to tower at the fringe of the crowd and sway back, hands tucked in his pockets and hawaiian shirt slipping open in the heat. Jongdae cocks a smile and grips his stand with both hands,  drawing invisible impressions from Chanyeol’s mind with the bent of his fingers.

“[ _All my ladies_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FWL0TlBLW0) _[, just touch it, touch it baby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FWL0TlBLW0)\- _” The chorus grows smooth, liquid chocolate chased by a glass of whiskey, and the murmur of the audience spikes in pitch.

Jongdae climbs atop a baby grand piano, dancing right above an adoring pianist with his dress shoes sliding dust across the slick counter and that same lazy sway to his hips. At some point, someone laughs, rambunctious and infectiously loud, and the music expands into trumpets, the shaking of bedazzled dresses, and a promise of one drunken night to be spent and then forgotten. When Baekhyun finally bumps Jongdae off of the piano, it is with a joyous declaration sung directly into the microphone, just in time to the joyous surge of voices.

“~[ _Young hearts_ _, run free!_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IIbiG04X3ws)”

Jongdae has to stumble off-stage, through the crowd, and of course — right into Chanyeol’s side. “ _Never be hung up, hung up like my man and me_ ,” Baekhyun hoots, hauling Minseok vigorously up to the piano by an unwilling arm.

It’s unexpected, but Chanyeol easily slides into the upbeat song, offering an arm to a displaced Jongdae. “Shall we?”

There is a moment where Jongdae glares at the stage with a stare of pure malice, but then he’s considering Chanyeol and falling into a smile, sly and easy. “Only if I get to lead, Prince Charming.” Chanyeol’s hands seem to fall around his hips, and with Jongdae’s fingers tracing their way up around his arms, they both begin to move unprompted.

The night is hot, perfect in the way that it keeps them pressed up against one another, wound together by a feverish warmth. Jongdae’s jacket has been tossed to a fake palm frond, and Chanyeol’s own hawaiian shirt is slipping loose around his shoulders. Slicked bare with sweat, it feels good to have Jongdae’s gaze on him.

The night is hot, but settling full and easy between them, easing forward on a clock made to keep track of a time made from honey and stars alone. Gold glints on the hint of Jongdae’s collarbone beneath the ruffled edge of his collar, and Chanyeol knows what he wants tonight.

“Shall we run away before midnight, princess?”

Jongdae drags him down by the neck, and up close, Chanyeol can see the corners of his lips quirk up in a tempting promise. “Maybe I’ll steal you away first, prince.”

They don’t kiss, but with Jongdae’s fingers tugging at his hair, they’re bold enough to feel like they could spend the morning after with a shared cigarette and smoke-burnt toast as breakfast between them.

They don’t kiss and perhaps, there will be no consequences after.

☼

Chanyeol ambles idly behind Jongdae’s melting footsteps and glances toward the horizon, where clear blue stretches on endlessly. He considers how Jongdae might laugh, soaked under the sun in salt, sand, and sea.

“Hey-” Jongdae turns, waving. Chanyeol’s dress shirt billows loosely around his arm, a blinding white flag under the midday sun. “Catch up, slowpoke!” He shuffles in place, overflowing with the same casual energy, smiling, laughing as if nothing could matter more to him in the world than a stroll down the beach.

After last night, even Chanyeol has to pause to work out all the leftover aches in his body. Their hasty brunch is turning in his stomach, and really, how did Jongdae get so far ahead of him?

Along the horizon, grey clouds stretch along plateaus and layers, bringing the fog of a tell-tale storm. Chanyeol idles and watches it grow, wondering how long he has left with Jongdae today before the heavy rain sets in.

“Come on,” a cheerful voice pipes up, suddenly right by his ear. It’s Jongdae, having retraced his own disappearing footsteps to tug at Chanyeol’s arm. “We should go before the storm hits.” His eyes are filled with briny grey as he looks toward the horizon, and with his hair cutting minuscule lines into his cheek, he could be a part of the storm itself.

Chanyeol wraps an arm around his waist and leans down, breathing in the now familiar scent of dried brush and the charr of flames in the midst of cool rain. Jongdae makes to protest, wriggling against him, but Chanyeol knows how cats like to play, how flighty they are and lets go before Jongdae can take off on his own.

Still, Jongdae doesn’t run. The look he gives Chanyeol is pondering, inscrutable, and he presses back against his side with a sigh that sounds like a breeze. _Cats_ , Chanyeol thinks with a lethargic kind of satisfaction.

“Should we talk about this?”

Chanyeol hums to the rhythm of the waves and plays lightly with the thin hairs at Jongdae’s nape. The singer’s face scrunches at the sensation, but there is no indication for him to stop, so he continues, working his way up Jongdae’s scalp as he watches the seagulls swirl around the winds of the coming storm.

He doesn’t answer in the moment, but Jongdae doesn’t seem to be expecting him to either. Truth be told, Chanyeol has never hung around like this — not for the breakfast after and certainly not for a casual stroll, where they had thrown on each other's shirts and followed the shoreline with only idle conversation filling the space between them. It's like this that he feels how easy it would be to just settle, if only for a moment. 

“I’m not looking for anything right now.” People have told him before how much it hurts to hear him say such a thing, but Chanyeol hasn’t come up with a better way to say goodbye ever since his first fling, so he’s stuck with it since. It’s the truth even now, despite how much he likes the way Jongdae’s slender neck fits inside the curve of his palm.

Jongdae doesn’t hesitate either. “I didn’t think you were.” He doesn’t sound bitter or like he’s holding together a facade; in fact, he’s smiling, lips curled up like a kitten basking beneath the sunlight. “Me neither.”

Chanyeol exhales, a sharp breath that could be taken as laughter. “Maybe we’re perfect for each other then,” he murmurs, closing his eyes as he presses the words into the crown of Jongdae’s head.

“You can’t keep me, pretty boy.” Jongdae is playful, admonishing with his lashes fluttering thin shadows across his cheeks, but the grip he has on Chanyeol’s arm is a warning, complete with a light hint of nails.

“And I don’t mean to.” Despite what he says, Chanyeol ends up cupping Jongdae’s neck with splayed fingers, stroking the smooth skin where he’s had the chance to see strong veins tensed up-close in song.

When Jongdae hums, he can feel the vibrations like a heartbeat in his palm. He can’t help but think, if only for a moment, of Jongdae singing in bed, of thunder right outside his window, and the spark of lightning sharp on his lips.

“Will I be seeing you tonight?” It’s not a promise to anything new, but Chanyeol is earnest in his persuasion, pressing dry kisses down the line of Jongdae’s jaw.

Jongdae relaxes against his shoulder right until Chanyeol brushes over the corner of his lips. Then, he’s slipping away, smiling plainly with slitted eyes. “Of course, Prince charming. Come and find me in the castle after midnight.” He beckons lightly and turns back to his stroll along the shore, sinking footprints into the sand.

Chanyeol follows at his side, content with the brush of Jongdae’s arm against his. Cats are only held as long they’d like to be, and certainly he knows Jongdae has been more than generous.

They don’t kiss and that’s enough at the moment.

☾

“[ _Besame_ _, besame mucho_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=okjvHxNdPBU)…”

Chanyeol leans into the curtain, comfortable in half-shadow. After all, he’s only the background strum of a few guitar strings. The true spotlight shines for Jongdae, crooning, eyes closed and dreaming as his fingers flower lightly around the mic.

The club fills in and out with the murmur of lonely customers, but Jongdae’s solitary voice is always the first and last to greet and say goodbye to each and every one of them. Beneath the rhythm of simple chords, it is the tender song of heartache that they all long for in a place so far from home.

And it is Chanyeol who plays on at the side, waiting for Jongdae to open his eyes and see him again.

Eventually, the song fades out, soft and steady, into a quiet coasting tune as its lovely voice trails into the last note. Baekhyun picks it up again, slipping into a piano sequence meant for the exchange of clinking cups and meaningless conversation to last the night. Chanyeol plays the backtrack for a while, plucking offhandedly at some chords that add to the low clutter of noise.

Jongdae’s easy hum draws out the last few notes, a wordless goodbye pressed with one last breath against the mic. As he opens his eyes, it’s like watching him come down to earth again.

‘ _Besame mucho_?’ Chanyeol mouths as he watches Jongdae duck beneath the curtain. Perhaps, there’s a smug curl to his mouth or a knowing glitter to his eyes that makes Jongdae mirror his expression, caught just so in a hint of gold as he leaves the spotlight.

“Do you know what it means?”

“ _Como si fuera esta noche la ultima vez_?” Chanyeol makes sure to roll his r’s with feigned expertise, adding a strum of guitar for good measure. Outside the curtain, there’s the tell-tale tune of Baekhyun hitting a flat note and muffling a curse from the mic.

Jongdae leans close and stays for long enough that Chanyeol wonders if the moment has already passed with the beat. He pushes his luck anyway: “Tell me then.”

For a moment, Jongdae doesn’t move, hidden half in shadow, half in the gilded spotlight. Then, he’s pushing closer, even closer until their noses brush, and for once, Chanyeol is struck silent by the look in Jongdae’s eyes.

“Kiss me and find out.”

It is barely a brush of lips, but when Jongdae’s fingers come up to trace his cheeks, it becomes a spark of lightning, of a great, thundering storm.

Chanyeol closes his eyes, lays his hands over Jongdae’s own, and drowns beneath his touch.

  ☼

The next morning is one of slow rainfall, the kind that drums against window panes in the aftermath of a passing storm, turning the world wet and grey as you curl up bare beneath the covers. So, the process of waking for them is one that stops and starts, when one starts by blinking back the mist and heavy sleep, and then the other pulls against him, and it becomes smoke once more.

Chanyeol blames it on the cold rain, on the whispers of his own half-asleep dreams, on the unconscious way Jongdae keeps digging his nose into the crook of his neck. He blames it on the little noises Jongdae makes every time he presses up against him.

When Chanyeol finally opens his eyes enough to kiss him, open-mouthed and desperate, Jongdae furrows his brow and makes the same low noise in his throat. Somehow, it reminds him of an animal, hurt and tender as it curls back in on itself. The rain whispers its hushed sentiments outside, and Chanyeol buries Jongdae into the pillows with his own sweet nothings.

When Jongdae finally mouths back against his lips, it’s almost enough for Chanyeol to believe that Jongdae might wake up and ask him to stay.

In that moment, Chanyeol truly thinks he could.  

…

Facing the sea, they contemplate the coming storm in silence. Chanyeol is wrapped tight around Jongdae’s back, arms crossing his chest — this time he won’t let Jongdae slip out and away with his glittering smile, won't watch as his footprints wash away in the sand.

Chanyeol holds Jongdae to him like a cage. Selfish, bitter, all wrong –  he opens his mouth and finds the salt and sea air souring his words.

“Would you leave with me if I asked?”

Jongdae clutches at his arm, and the press of his fingers is numb against his damp skin. 

“Then, would you stay?”

The storm calls. Beneath the hush of waves, lulling, there is a tension drawing itself to a quick. Unsustainable and ready to run at the drop of a penny.

A cat sprinting across the sand, so quick the dash of its paws is almost violent in the aftermath.

Chanyeol pulls tighter, and even though Jongdae doesn’t move, he hides his face in the singer’s neck and tries to clear away the heavy scent of ozone lingering on his skin.

Jongdae laughs. A seagull echoes him from above the clouds with a piercing, crying sort of sound.

“That’s what I thought.”

☾

Chanyeol does not see Jongdae under the spotlight tonight. The next night, he is not dancing atop the piano, nor is he swaying in a drunken love song against the bar.

The night after that, the golden shimmer of the oasis seems to have dimmed to a sole shadow.

By now, Chanyeol has become one of the perpetual shades that linger if only to catch a glimpse of the sun again.

Baekhyun pours him his nightly half-glass of whiskey and stares him down from under his lashes, pity and disapproval all mixed into one lukewarm drink. Chanyeol takes it in with slow sips, holding in each mouthful as if attempting to separate the grain from the drop.

Eventually, even Baekhyun has nothing to say anymore. He leaves Chanyeol to nurse his drink through the night, eyes clouded over as he watches a trail of footprints slowly disappear from the sand into the sea.

...

Perhaps, it is cruel irony that Chanyeol finds Jongdae again alone at the edge of the beach, moonlight lapping at his ankles. So close and so quiet, with his shoulders poking through the translucent outline of his shirt like a pair of broken bird wings. Close and alone and shaking with stilted tremors.

Chanyeol takes off, feet sinking into the sand without another moment’s thought.

They collide in the water – salt in their eyes, moonlight spilling over their bodies to find the outline of entangled limbs and wet pearls strung across the spider thread of fluttering lashes.

“Don’t-” Jongdae trembles beneath him. Through the tangle of his hair, Chanyeol can see the shaking of wild, shining eyes. 

Tomorrow, Chanyeol leaves.

Tonight, Chanyeol gives in thoroughly.

“Don’t – don’t,” Jongdae mouths against him, dragging a wet trail from cheek to cheek. His hands tangle around Chanyeol’s neck, pawing numbly at the collar of his shirt, and they collapse into the slow drag of waves together.

Chanyeol kisses him blindly, reaches for him in a haze where there is nothing but Jongdae’s stare, dark and blazing through the night.

The waves lap over them again and again, cold yet gentle, and Chanyeol kisses Jongdae over and over until there are only tears, sweet, stinging, and sharp on his tongue.

“Don’t go.” Jongdae’s cries, even when broken, glitter with a tender sliver of moonlight.

Chanyeol clutches Jongdae to him, sopping wet and shuddering. They both gasp for air, drowning against one another.

“Stay – _stay, please._ ”

Jongdae’s voice holds a tenuous note, strung out in a tight, steadying breath. It’s one last goodbye song, sung without any other voices, without any pianos or loud trumpets to announce their fanfare. It’s a song that Chanyeol will hear every time he closes his eyes to the sound of bird’s wings beating in a flurry of feathers.

“Of course.” Chanyeol closes his eyes, kisses Jongdae, open-mouthed, slow and aching.

It’s a promise that can only last for the night, but when morning comes — they’ll both know that it was the truth. 

☼ 

“Jeez~” Baekhyun yawns, dragging Chanyeol’s luggage behind him with reluctant jerks of his arm, “why do you have to leave so soon?”

His words have Chanyeol halting in place, caught up in the still-tender spot in his chest. From the corner of his eyes, the waves seem to pick up traction in the early dawn.

Baekhyun shakes Chanyeol gently and immediately jumps as the taller man turns suddenly. He relaxes his grip, but his hand stays for a firm minute, holding him through an agonizing calm.

Chanyeol realizes he must have looked like a mad man. He breathes in, _one,_  exhales to the sound of a gull cry tossed around by the wind, _two,_  and lets his eyes wander finally to shore.

There, Jongdae stands with Chanyeol’s hawaiian shirt tucked around his shoulders, his elbows and knees pink in the cool sea air. The waves wrap around his bare ankles, pulling, pushing for him to go and even the ends of his shirt reach for Chanyeol in the wind.

But Jongdae stays, casual and steady, with his hands tucked in his pockets and his swollen eyes curved up in a smile. He lives to sing in the moment, and he has already said his goodbyes in song.

There are no tears, only red lips, dry eyes, and the sea as the perpetual distance between them.

“You’ll see him again.” Baekhyun nods, self-affirming, sounding earnest for once in his life. Sunlight begins to flare overhead, and Chanyeol can feel an old itch at the edge of his neck again.

Baekhyun’s smile flickers, but it’s not a lie. A trick of the light perhaps, but even he looks distinctly more melancholy in the slow-rising dawn. Chanyeol doesn’t blame him for trying to make sweet promises, but this is a farewell.

(And if they were to see each other again, their feet making prints in the sand, tangled up to their ankles in heavy water – one by one, it would all simply be washed away.  A slow hum of the sea, followed by the twine of guitar strings, the impression of something forgotten would soon follow).

It is at least a goodbye to who they were when they had been together. A goodbye to a sole moment of paradise.

Jongdae raises an arm, hair brushing carefree over his brow in the wind. In the light, he shines gold.

_“Don’t forget me, prince.”_

Chanyeol feels the sun soak along his back as he turns and catches Jongdae’s words like kisses in the wind.

“I’ll see you then songbird.”

...

On the way back, Chanyeol finds a familiar face leaned against the railing, weathered guitar propped up by a surprisingly short mic stand. 

Kyungsoo’s only indication of surprise is one perfectly cocked brow.

“Had fun?”

Chanyeol sighs, stretches languidly against him and steals the guitar over for an errant song. There are no words, only a simple strumming tune that Chanyeol plays with his eyes closed as if he’s pouring his heart out right then and there.

The wind brushes by and gently carries the hum of his voice far along from ocean to shore.

“Absolute paradise.”

Kyungsoo makes a non-committal noise against his shoulder. “Must’ve been nice,” he grumbles roughly, but even he joins in on Chanyeol’s nonsensical humming.

Chanyeol lets himself be carried along by the sway of the boat, soaks in the sunlight, and thinks about chasing after footprints washed away in the sand. From here, he can still see the sly twist of Jongdae’s smile waiting ahead of him.

“It was like one last summer’s day.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank u for reading! Really wanted to capture a feeling of inevitable goodbyes in this fic and the lasting impression we leave on each other’s lives without meaning to. Please let me know how it was, any and all feedback is welcome!


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